Auxiliary Room 13
by CSIvHP11
Summary: High school is a war zone. Myka Bering had known that since her first day freshman year. She had just always managed to stay away from the front line. High school AU. Eventual Bering and Wells. Not a happy fic, deals with slut shaming, child abuse/neglect, and more as it goes on.
1. Chapter 1

**Warehouse 13  
High School AU  
Eventual Bering and Wells**

**TW: slut shaming, child abuse/neglect**

**Starting to post this now due to AU Week on Tumblr. I will get the first few chapters up regularly this week, then it will slow down. I also plan on finishing Sight and adding more to my other WIPs this week, so keep an eye out for that.**

**Chapter One**

_"Who knew she's actually such a bitch?"_

High school is a war zone. Myka Bering had known that since her first day freshman year. She had just always managed to stay away from the front line.

_"She's so quiet; I never woulda thought she would be capable of this."_

She had seen people torn apart by the bombardment of insults. She had seen proud students leave with countless battle scars. She had hoped to leave untouched.

_"Can you really blame her, though? Look at her, it's not like she has many guys asking her out."_

Myka curled further into herself as each comment rose from the groups she passed in the hall as she walked away from her last class.

They weren't hurled at her, that she could handle. Her skin was thick enough to handle direct attacks after years of a younger sister, and a father who never noticed exactly how much his words actually hurt.

No, these weren't cannons fired from the front. These were daggers, flung from the sides with a deadly accuracy that found the holes in her armor. Daggers that cut deeper than any cannon ever could.

She ducked into the restroom, hoping to find cover from the attack, but walked into an enemy camp instead. An enemy camp that just so happened to have the general in it.

"I'm just gunna go," Myka mumbled as she tried to escape, but one of the girls stepped up to her, and held the door closed.

"Why? You just got here," she questioned in an overly innocent voice.

Myka took in the girls around her. Most of them were seniors, except, she realized with a pang, Tracy, her little sister, who was clinging to the edges of the group, and watching Myka with cold eyes.

"Wrong door," she muttered, and tried once again to slip past the girl blocking her in.

"Oh, I'm sure it was," the girl said with a fake laugh. She draped her arm across Myka's shoulders and forced her away from the door. She stopped when Myka was right in front of the blond girl who stood in the center of their gaggle.

Myka couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear as she stood in front of the girls. She was taller than all of them, despite being younger, but after the battle she had been through during the day, her shoulders had sunk. They all seemed to tower over her.

"If it isn't the little slut herself," the girl sneered.

"Judy, I'm so sorry. He told me that…"

"Yes, please tell me the line he used to get you in his bed."

Myka blinked a few times as she tried to make sense of what Judy had just said. "What? We…I…I didn't sleep with him."

"That's not how he's telling it."

"Then he's lying."

The girls all scoffed in such harmony that Myka couldn't help but wonder if they had practiced.

"Seriously. He…he told me that you two had broken up, but let the truth slip out later. I left as soon as I learnt the truth, I swear."

"Was that before or after he fucked you?"

Myka saw red.

High school was war, and she had just been drafted.

She pushed the girl next to her, and escaped the bathroom. She ignored the yells she was leaving behind as she rushed through the school.

She knew exactly where to go; there was only one place Mike Madden would be right after school.

She stopped right before turning down the athletic hallway. She took a few deep breaths, then stalked down the hall.

The hockey team was, as always, blocking the hallway halfway down, just outside of their locker room. She could just make out Mike standing in the center as he animatedly told a story.

As she moved closer, one of the guys on the outside of the group noticed her, and got Mike's attention. His face paled.

"Myka, what are you…?"

"You know, Mike, I'm pretty damn sure sleeping with you would be something I would remember," she cut him off.

He stuttered out a few syllables as his team watched in stunned silence.

"Instead," she continued, "I have this rather vivid memory of walking out on you when you accidentally told me that you and Judy are still together."

Mike tried again to speak, but she didn't give him the chance.

"Tell me, did I remember wrong?"

"Myka, you need to understand."

"Understand what? That you used me, then lied about it to the entire fucking school? I'm pretty sure I understand that."

"I have a reputation to uphold, Myka."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot about your precious reputation. I was a little too busy worrying about the one you created for me. You know, the one where I'm a slut who will jump into bed with any guy who asks me to."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Of course you didn't 'mean' it, that's all that matters right? All's good in the world because you didn't 'mean' to ruin my life here." She let out a short laugh. "I would say 'fuck you' but that kinda defeats the purpose, doesn't it? So, I guess I'm going to have to settle with this."

She pulled her arm back, then punch him as hard as she could. She felt his nose crack beneath her knuckles, and a stream of blood coated his chin and chest.

"I'll see you around, Mike. Don't bother talking to me."

She turned away, but froze when she saw the hockey coach glaring at her.

"Office, now," he told her.

She kept her back straight and her head high as she walked away.

-oOo-

"You got what?"

Myka cringed at the tone in her father's voice. She could only be grateful of the fact that he hadn't been drinking that night.

"A week of ISS," she repeated in a small voice.

"In school suspension? How do you plan to get into a decent school with that on your record?"

"It's just one thing, Dad."

"Yeah, and she's lucky she didn't get anything worse. From what I heard, she broke his nose," Tracy called from the kitchen.

Myka glared in the direction the voice had come from. Her mom's voice came through the walls, muffled as she chastised Tracy.

"She's right, you are very lucky it wasn't worse. I'm not going to be as lenient as your school."

She sat in silence as he laid her punishment out.

Eight o'clock curfew. Fine, it's not like she ever went out anyway.

Working every free hour in the store. Okay, she practically did already.

To and from school, with no other destinations. Wait… did that include…

"And no fencing."

"No, Dad, please. I have a major tournament coming up."

"You should have thought of that before you punched a kid at school."

She wanted to throw some snarky comment at him. She wanted to let him know exactly what happened. She wanted to scream about how it wasn't her fault, but the words died in her throat. They formed a lump, and made it difficult to breathe. She let her head fall forward and her eyes dropped to the floor.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled.

"What?"

She raised her head. "Yes, sir," she repeated, her voice slightly louder.

"Good. Go check the shelves."

She nodded and left the room.

-oOo-

If anything positive could be said about ISS, it was that Myka could get her work done without the idiots in her classes constantly interrupting. She was able to concentrate on what her teachers had sent for the day.

She wasn't even halfway through the stack of worksheets, however, when she was interrupted anyway.

Unlike the other students in the room, she didn't look up when someone knocked on the door. She didn't care when the monitor and the visitor held a hushed conversation. She didn't care; she was more interested in her work.

"Ms. Bering."

Myka finally looked up. A tall woman with an old-fashioned hairdo was watching her.

"Bring a pen and come with me."

Myka nodded, grabbed her pen, and stood up. The woman walked out of the room. Myka followed her.

They walked silently through the halls until the woman turned into an empty classroom.

"Take a seat."

Myka slid into the closest seat. The woman slid a single sheet of paper onto the desk, then moved to stand somewhere behind Myka.

Myka resisted the urge to turn around, and looked at the paper instead.

The front of the paper asked for her information, then her schedule for both in and out of school. She double checked the information, then flipped the paper over.

The back held what appeared to be a personality test. Most of the questions were typical.

_Would you rather be on time but unprepared, or perfectly prepared but tardy?_

_Would you consider yourself a perfectionist?_

_How often do you clean your room?_

A few, however, made her eyebrows quirk.

_Do you have any abilities you have never been able to logically explain?_

_Would you have any interest in learning hand-to-hand combat?_

_Have you ever smelt fudge when there is no fudge?_

She made her way through the questions, taking her time to ensure that each was answered correctly. She closed her pen down, and leaned back in her seat. She twirled the pen slightly as she waited for the woman to walk back and take the paper.

After a few minutes had passed, she twisted around. The area behind her was empty. She turned back around and jumped. The woman was standing in front of her, already holding the paper.

Myka watched as the woman scanned through her answers.

"Ms. Bering," the woman said as she looked up from the paper. "My name is Mrs. Fredric, and I have an opportunity for you. One of the likes you will never encounter again."

Myka watched her with interest but reservations.

"If you decide to take advantage of it, you will receive training during the rest of your time here, and will, upon graduation, come work for me."

"Doing what?"

"That information will not be revealed until your senior year."

"Why not?"

Mrs. Fredric raised an eyebrow. "That is simply how we do things."

Myka nodded. Questions chased themselves around her head, but Mrs. Fredric spoke before she could choose one to ask.

"Before you attempt to barrage me with questions, read through this."

She handed Myka a pile of paper. Myka took them and started to read.

If she decided to take the opportunity, she had to wait a month before dropping out if she didn't like it. On the flip side, after the first day of her senior year, she would be required to spend three years on the job.

She would be partnered with another student and would have to attend training after school four days a week with them. Training would have physical and scholastic aspects. Her mind briefly wondered to the question about hand-to-hand combat.

She would, somehow but that part wasn't exactly clear, get a bachelors degree, then join a federal agency with her partner.

She couldn't tell anyone the specifics of what she was doing.

"Should you decide that you will accept this offer," Mrs. Fredric said as soon as Myka finished reading the final page, "everything you will need is in here." She took the packet and handed Myka a large envelope.

Myka nodded as she took it.

"Do you have any further questions?"

Myka shook her head. She fingered the flap of the envelope.

"Very well."

She heard the door knob turn, and the words burst free. "Why me?"

Mrs. Fredric turned around. She gave Myka a look the girl couldn't quite describe.

"We have been considering you for some time now, Ms. Bering. Between your academic record and extracurriculars, you have always been a strong confidence. Recent events, however, made it clear that you will do well."

"Recent events? You mean punching Mike?"

"In this job, you have to be willing to fight for a variety of things. For the mission. For your partner. And, for yourself. Yesterday you finally showed us that you will fight for yourself."

With that, Mrs. Fredric left.

Myka looked down at the envelope. A note for her to be in the halls was paper-clipped to it. She turned the envelope over. It was blank.

Her mind was still racing as she returned to the ISS room.

She handed the slip to the monitor, who nodded after reading it, and took her seat.

She forced herself to finish her assignments before going through the envelope, and was glad she did. The envelope held a pass to the school basement, a letter for her parents, and a single sheet of instructions.

She leaned back in her seat and just thought for the final hour of the day.

-oOo-

"What exactly is this?"

Warren Bering had his eyes on the letter Myka had given him. She had found the letter in the envelope from Mrs. Fredric. She thought about what it said.

"It's a career preparatory program," she explained, using the phrase the letter used. "They will teach me skills that will be useful my entire life, then help me get a job after graduation that will help me pay for college."

"I thought I was perfectly clear about the terms of your punishment."

"Yes. You said no destinations other than school, and this is at school."

He looked down to read through the letter again.

"The lady I talked to said that doing this will make any potential employees and college admission offices look past the ISS," she told him.

"Fine, but you will come right home after, and will put your hours in at the shop before doing anything else."

"Of course," she replied, nodding her head. She stood up, and walked to the door. She paused, and turned back around. "Thanks, Dad."

She left the room, and missed the slightly surprised look on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warehouse 13  
High School AU  
Eventual Bering and Wells**

**TW: alludes to bullying**

**Chapter Two**

It was the first time Myka had been in the basement of the school. She held her pass tightly in case a staff member tried to challenge her.

The kids who sneak into the lower level typically come back with descriptions of dark, damp rooms; narrow hallways full of cobwebs; rickety stairways where one stair always give way beneath their feet.

Of course, they all lied.

The basement was just as clean and structurally sound as the rest of the building, and the only thing that prevented it from being just as bright was the lack of windows.

Auxiliary room 13 was the last room in the basement, its double doors set in the wall at the end of the hallway. One of the doors was propped open, and despite the logic that told her otherwise, it all felt slightly horror movie-esque.

She stopped in the open doorway and looked around the room.

It was large, only slightly smaller than the secondary gym it was most likely built under.

One of the back corners was lined with desks holding a mix of the most modern and the most steam punk computers Myka had seen. Sparring mats took up the other back corner, where the walls were lined with mirrors. The mats were lined on one side by a few punching bags and weight racks.

To her right stood a group of normal school desks and a few aisles of bookcases. To her left was a small area with comfortable looking chairs, a rug, and a few tables.

A man stood in front of one of the tables with his back to her. A junior girl she vaguely recognized sat in one of the chairs, a large book in her lap.

Myka knocked to get their attention, and stepped into the room.

The man turned to her, a cookie in his hand. He looked her up and down, sizing her up, then nodded.

"Good, you're here," he said. "Now if the boy could get here."

"Calm down, old man," a voice said from behind Myka. "I'm here."

She turned around to meet dark eyes. The boy stared back. Then they both turned to the man and spoke at the same time.

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"I can't work with her."

"I refuse to be partnered with such a…"

"Enough," the man called, trying to stop their protests.

The boy turned to Myka. "Such a what?"

"Imbecilic child."

"Better than being a stuck up bitch."

"Really? Because at least I'll go places after graduating."

"Hey, I am going places!"

"Yeah, to flip burgers."

"Enough!" the man repeated, his voice louder. They turned to him. "I'm guessing you two know each other."

"We've met," Myka deadpanned.

"Well, you better get over whatever's between you, because for the next month, you have no choice. So, Myka Bering, Peter Lattimer, I am Artie Neilson. Welcome to Auxiliary Room 13."

-oOo-

"Come on, Bering, you can't seriously be reading it," Lattimer groaned.

Myka ignored him and continued her task. She was almost finished so it would be pointless to stop. Besides, it had information on their training, and that was something they should know.

He watched her for a few more moments. "Just sign the damn thing."

"Always read what you're going to sign," she said without stopping. "If you had read it, you would know that by doing this, you can't do sports anymore."

"What?" His papers rustled as he searched through the document.

Myka snorted and finished reading. She turned to him. He was glaring at her.

"It doesn't say that."

She shrugged and scrawled her name on the signature line.

"But, it does say," she said, "that you will have to work with your coach to figure the schedule out. Two sessions here will be later in the night to accommodate practices, but the other two cannot be missed."

He looked between her and the paper. "You remember all that?"

"I have a good memory," she simply said.

"So you can tell me everything it says? So there's no reason for me to read it. I can just ask you."

She opened her mouth to rebuff his suggestion, but Artie cut her off.

"Done?" he asked as he took the papers. He quickly checked their signatures then put another sheet of paper on their desks.

"More?" Lattimer whined.

"Confidentiality agreement," Artie said. "You can't tell anyone what you're actually learning here, and if I find out that you do, you're out."

"You serious?" Lattimer questioned. Myka rolled her eyes and started to read through the text.

"Yes," Artie said.

Lattimer groaned and signed the paper. Artie picked it up, then turned to Myka. She quickly finished reading, signed it, and handed it to him.

-oOo-

Myka fought back a groan and tightened her arms around her torso. The wind bit through her hoodie and the snow crunched under her vans.

Lattimer. Of every person they could have chosen to be her potential partner, they had to choose Peter Lattimer. The boy was immature, offensive, and the entire school heralded him as the next star quarterback.

Beyond that he had hated her, for no reason, since he had first moved to Jefferson in fourth grade. He was one of group that had ensured she hated her life.

The training itself seemed interesting. They would be focusing on the basic knowledge – mainly history by the sound of it – and physical – maintaining a standard of fitness, different types of combat – aspects first, then would move onto other stuff. What other stuff, she still didn't know because Artie had refused to tell them. Still, she was intrigued.

If only she wasn't partnered with Lattimer.

-oOo-

Pete absently sang to the music coming from the radio as he moved through the kitchen. He pulled a box of cereal from the pantry, and grabbed the milk as he walked past the fridge.

"How did everything go this afternoon?"

Pete looked up at his mom as she walked in. He shrugged as he started to pour the cereal.

"It's alright. I'm going to learn some cool stuff…"

"But?"

"The girl they partnered me with is a major pain."

"Maybe you'll learn to like each other."

He scoffed around a mouthful of Lucky Charms. "Right." He grabbed his bowl and left the kitchen.

Jane watched him leave, then sighed.

"I hope you're right about this, Irene."

-oOo-

Myka ran a hand through her hair as she hunched over her textbook. It was nearing midnight and she still had five questions left in her AP European history assignment, and a worksheet for Trig.

She had worked in the store from the time she had gotten home until dinner. Then, after dinner, she had organized the backroom and restocked the shelves.

She didn't even start her homework until ten.

She jotted down an answer – _Maximilien de Robespierre; born 1758, died 1794_ – then pushed the work away. She crossed her arms on her desk and laid her head down. She shut her eyes.

When she opened them again, an hour had passed.

Cursing under her breath, she sat up, rubbed her temples and went back to work.

Hopefully it would all be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warehouse 13  
High School AU  
Eventual Bering and Wells**

**TW: alludes to abuse**

**Chapter Three**

Myka felt awkward standing next to Lattimer in her workout clothes.

He was almost all bulging muscle thanks to his sports. His shirt – sleeveless despite the weather– showed off his arms and he occasionally flexed while winking at Leena. The older girl just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Myka, on the other hand, was lanky and too tall. Her clothes – purchased a year ago to practice fencing in – were a size too small and only made her look taller and lankier and even more awkward. She shifted from foot to foot, wishing they were inside.

The wind was blowing hard against the straight-aways, which was going to make finishing hurt even more. Snow was piled on the edges of the track; some had already found its way into her trainers.

"One mile," Artie said. "Four laps."

Lattimer nodded and rolled his neck. "Try to keep up, Bering," he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. She already knew she wasn't going to do that well. She hadn't finished her homework until after two. Her legs had been dragging all day, and her headache had been steadily growing.

On top of that, she had woken up late, hadn't had time to make a lunch, and had no money in her meal plan. Her stomach had turned into a pit hid-way through English.

"Ready…go."

-oOo-

Lattimer was still gloating after they had showered, changed, and met back in the auxiliary room.

"I mean, I knew I was going to beat you, but damn, Bering."

Myka rolled her eyes and pulled a textbook out of her bag. She set it on the desk and opened it – the page she needed clearly marked with a post-it.

Lattimer stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Homework," she replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't you do it later?"

She just shook her head. She would get home and have to work right away. She couldn't manage another night staying up so late.

"Whatever," he said with a shrug and pulled a comic book from his bag.

The words on her page blurred together every other minute, and her head nodded forward a few times. She closed her book and stood up. If she sat much longer, she would pass out and there was no way she was doing that around Lattimer.

A wave of vertigo hit her. She gripped the desk until it passed. When it did, however, the headache she had been fighting all day increased. It started to pound against her skull, making her eyes water.

She walked to the book shelves and started to browse the titles. Her legs protested, and her head felt light and heavy at the same time, but it was better than sitting down.

She pulled a random book out and started to flip through it. She leaned back against the bookshelf. The book quickly grew heavy in her hand and the small print increased the throbbing behind her eyes. She was about to give up and put it back when Artie – who had been testing Leena – walked in.

"Both of you, over here," he said as he sat in one of the armchairs.

Myka slipped the book back on the shelf and followed Lattimer over. She stood next to the chair Lattimer sat in. Artie raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything about it.

"Not bad, considering the conditions, but still room to improve, for both of you," he told them. Myka ducked her head, the criticism hitting her hard. "You're done for the day. Get some rest, the real training begins tomorrow."

"That's it?" Pete asked.

"Yeah. Go, be free. Enjoy the rest of your day. Don't expect to get out this early again."

"Sweet," Pete exclaimed. He stood and raced from the room.

Myka shifted awkwardly on her feet. Artie gave her a questioning look.

"My, uh, ride won't be here until the usual end time, so is it alright if I stay down here until then?" she asked.

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Just make sure you close the door when you leave, or it won't lock."

She nodded. He didn't waste any time gathering his stuff, but paused right before leaving the room. He turned to her.

"You'll be okay by yourself, right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm probably just going to get some homework done."

"Okay."

He turned again, and left the room.

Myka twisted around to take in the emptiness of the room. The silence bore down on her, pulling her attention to the pounding in her head.

She massaged her temples slightly, and returned to the desk her stuff sat on.

-oOo-

Artie grumbled to himself as he walked through the school. How could he have forgotten his Farnsworth?

He groaned when he noticed the open door. He had thought Myka was responsible enough to do something as simple as closing the door.

He faltered slightly when he noticed the music coming from the room. Classical; not something he ever expected to hear at a high school.

When he entered the room, his eyes instantly landed on the figure at one of the desks.

Myka – head resting on folded arms, back steadily rising and falling – was fast asleep. Textbooks and worksheets covered the surface around her. The music came from an mp3 that had fallen to the ground.

Artie checked his watch to make sure he had the time right.

Her ride should have arrived at least an hour ago.

He walked over to her and gently shook her. She groaned as she woke. She tried to bury her face further into her arms, then turned her head towards him.

"Artie?" she questioned through a yawn.

"Why are you still here, Myka?" he softly asked.

She blinked a few times to fight off the sleep that still held her, and looked at the work strewn across the desk.

"Waiting for my ride," she said.

"At five thirty?"

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at her watch. It took a few moments for her mind to process the information, but when it did, her eyes grew wide, and she jumped to her feet.

Artie could hear her repeatedly muttering _shit _under her breath as she gathered her stuff. Even in such a hurried state, he noticed that she kept her stuff organized.

"Myka…"

She stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you," she said. "For letting me stay and for waking me. My dad's probably really… worried right now."

She zipped her backpack, swung it over her shoulder, and bent down to pick up her mp3. She stuffed the device into her pocket as she moved to the door.

"What happened to your ride?" he asked.

She froze but didn't turn to him. He could feel the unease rolling off of her. One of her hands was playing with the keys that hung from her belt loop.

He moved so they were facing each other. Her shoulders slumped.

"I walk," she confessed. "I just wanted someplace quiet to do my homework."

"You don't have to lie," he told her. "This room is here for you to use."

She nodded, but kept her head down.

"Let me give you a ride home."

She looked up at him with shocked eyes, then quickly lowered her head again. "No. Thanks, but I'll be fine."

"Myka." She looked up and he gave her a hard look. "It's dark out, there is snow on the ground. I don't want you walking home in these conditions."

"I'll be fine, Artie," she insisted. "It's really not that far."

"I'm not budging on this. I'm driving you home."

An odd look crossed her features, then she gave in. "Okay."

"I just need to grab something, and we'll be on our way."

She nodded, and walked to the door. She leaned against the doorway, her head resting against the wall, her eyes half-closed.

He quickly grabbed his Farnsworth, and led her out of the room. They didn't say a word as they walked through the building. Artie allowed her to have her silence, sensing that even if he tried, she would repel any attempt he made.

He risked brief glances at her as he drove. She looked small with her body hunched over her bag and her head threatening to loll to the side.

She only spoke – her voice automatic – to give him directions, then a small thanks as she climbed out.

"Myka," he said just before she closed the door.

She bent down slightly to look at him. Her face was schooled in seeming perfect emotionlessness.

"Anytime you need a ride, just ask," he said.

She blinked a few times, then nodded. "Thanks."

Artie watched her walk into the bookstore, then drove off.

-oOo-

Myka wasn't surprised to find her father waiting for her in the bookstore. He blocked the stairwell to their apartment. His eyes bore into her as she approached.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice harsh.

"The session ran late. I didn't get a chance to call," she quietly lied.

Fighting every instinct to look down, she held his gaze. She knew the importance of keeping eye contact; if he even thought she was lying, she would be done for the night.

Finally, he nodded, and moved to let her through.

"Be sure to call next time. Go to your room. Your mother will bring you dinner," he said as she passed. "And you're going to work double shifts this weekend."

She was asleep before her mother had even gotten her plate ready.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warehouse 13  
High School AU  
Eventual Bering and Wells**

**TW: alludes to abuse; jokes about rape**

**Chapter Four**

Pete scanned the crowd of people moving to class. He knew she always came this way, so where was she?

He checked his watch; ten minutes until class started. There was no way she was late. Or absent. The girl was freaky that way.

No, wait, there she made a beeline towards her.

"Bering," he called out.

She didn't respond.

"Bering," he repeated.

Her head shifted slightly, but she didn't turn. He huffed and pushed around a large group.

"Bering," he said one last time when he was about a foot from her.

She turned and glared at him.

"I'm trying to get to class, what do you want?" she growled at him.

He stepped back and held his hands up slightly. "I just wanted to ask if you did your reading for Artie."

She gave him an aggravated look. "That's why you stopped me in the middle of the hall?"

He shrugged. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to be late. Do the reading in study hall."

He watched her vanish down the hall, then shook his head and turned in the opposite direction.

-oOo-

"Why do we need to know so much about Ancient Egyptian?" Lattimer whispered. He was leaning across the space between their seats.

They were seated in two of the armchairs in the room. Artie had given them their reading, then had gone to work with Leena on one of the computers in the next corner of the room.

"You really think I know?" Myka replied, slightly aggravated. She was trying to get through the reading. It was long and dull, and Lattimer's constant interruptions weren't helping.

He groaned and sat back in his seat. "But two weeks of Ancient Egypt," he whined. "It's so dry I'm not surprised it's in a desert."

"The land they lived on was actually really fertile thanks to the Nile," she absently corrected him.

He scoffed. "Of course you know that."

She looked up from the book in her lap. "We learnt that last year in World History."

He tilted his head slightly in thought. "We did, didn't we? You think I could just go through the notes I took?"

She looked at him skeptically. "You took notes?"

He grinned. "Well, I assumed you did, and still have them, and would be willing to share."

She rolled her eyes. "Read the book, Lattimer."

-oOo-

All Myka wanted was to pound in Lattimer's stupid face.

She was flat on her back on the sparring mats. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.

Three weeks into their training, and Artie had begun to have them spar each other. He had gone through the safety rules, then just told them to not go too hard yet.

So far, Lattimer had been able to overpower her every time. Him and his stupid wrestling.

Leena was suddenly standing over her, hand outstretched. Myka took her hand and let herself be helped to her feet.

"You're smaller than him," Leena told her.

"Thanks, hadn't noticed," Myka muttered.

Leena brushed her comment off. "And you fence. You have speed and agility. Use it against him. Brain versus brawn. Speed versus force."

Myka caught her breath and let the words roll through her mind. She looked over at Lattimer. He was getting a drink of water. When he noticed her looking, he winked and grinned.

Leena was right; she had been going around it the wrong way. She looked at the older girl and nodded.

Ten minutes and three rounds later, Lattimer was the one on the ground.

Myka looked down at him for a few moments, slightly surprised that her move had worked, then she smiled and a laugh bubbled out of her.

She held a hand out towards him. He watched it for a moment, a series of emotions crossing his face. Then he smiled up at her and took her hand.

"Nice move," he said once he was on his feet.

"Thanks."

-oOo-

"You do know that my name's Pete, right?"

Myka looked up from tying her shoe. They had just finished a sparring session – 6-5 him, but he had gotten lucky in that last one – and were getting ready to leave. "Yeah."

"So why do you always call me Lattimer?"

She shrugged. "You call me Bering."

"Only cause it would be weird to call you Myka when you won't call me Pete."

"Why does it even matter?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

"Do you want me to call you Pete?"

"I dunno."

She stood and nodded slightly. "Okay, Pete."

-oOo-

Myka rolled her eyes as she pulled a battered copy of Stephen King's '_Salem's Lot _from between _Dracula _and _I am Legend._ At least there was some logic behind the misplacement. She checked the book for any extra damage then added it to the growing pile of books in her arms and continued down the aisle.

She reached the end of the aisle and put the books on the check-out counter. She started to sort them by what aisle they belonged to.

She paused when she reached an old children's book on ancient cultures. She briefly considered buying it and giving it to Pete.

She blinked. When had she started to think of him as Pete? Sure, they'd been calling each other by their first names, but it didn't mean anything to her.

Her brow furrowed. Didn't it?

-oOo-

It was another reading day. Still Ancient Egypt. Pete hadn't realized there was so much to learn about a dead civilization – well, not _dead _just _not as active_ as Myka kept telling him, in bigger and better sounding words – but there was. They had to learn the history, the religion, the economic structure.

It all kinda just bored him.

He looked up from his book on late Egyptian rulers, and looked over at Myka.

She was curled up in her usual chair with her book of the week – something about language; she had a _thing _for languages – in her lap. Her glasses were barely hanging onto her nose and her hair was gathered in a messy bun. She looked more relaxed than he had ever seen her.

"Are you going to drop out next week?" he asked, disrupting the silence.

Myka turned to him. "Why?"

"The month requirement will be up."

She shook her head. "Not planning on it. Are you?"

He laughed, and she couldn't help but smile in return. "You couldn't get me to."

She looked like she was about to comment, but held it back and turned back to her book instead.

He smirked. She was totally warming up to him.

-oOo-

"Yo, Bering, where you rushing off to?"

Myka ignored the question and continued to search through her locker. She was going to be late getting home.

"I'm talking to you."

The voice was closer, and she didn't have any time to react before someone had grabbed her arm and twisted her around. She lifted her eyes see Kurt Smoller – star football and hockey player – less than a foot from her. He pressed a hand against the locker next to her head while the other held her own locker open, trapping her.

"You know," he said, "a month later, and you still haven't paid for what you did to Mike."

She fought back the cringe.

"So I was thinking," he continued, "and I may have figured out the best way you can do it." He leaned closer to her. "Of course, it would take multiple deposits, if you know what I mean."

"Leave me alone." She forced the words out, and was surprised when they sounded stronger than she felt.

"Make me." His voice was dangerous. The danger flooded his eyes, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Hey, back off of her."

Myka looked up as Kurt's presence vanished. Pete was standing in front of her. He had pulled Kurt away from her, and placed himself between them.

"Since when do you defend nerds, Pete?" Kurt laughed.

"Since I got to know one."

Kurt's eyes flicked between Pete and Myka. A leering smile crossed his face. "Oh, I get it."

"Get what?" Pete growled.

"She's giving you some help with a few classes, and you're showing her a good time, right?"

"What? No."

"C'mon, Pete, man. How long you been fucking her?"

That was enough for Myka. Holding her book tightly to her chest, she pushed past them.

Pete watched helplessly as she vanished around a corner, then turned to Kurt.

"So I was right?" the older boy grinned. "You are fucking the slut."

"I've never slept with Myka."

"Why not, man? You should get on it before someone else does."

Pete grabbed his collar and slammed him against the lockers. He could see the fear in Kurt's eyes, but the boy refused to back down.

"Don't you dare hurt her."

"I dunno man, I think getting some might just loosen her up. It's not rape if you yell surprise. Am I right?"

Pete did the first thing that came to his mind. He punched him.

Kurt dropped instantly; right onto Pete's rising knee. The boy crumpled to the floor. Pete crouched down next to him.

"Don't even joke about hurting her," he growled. "Leave Myka alone."

He left it at that, and followed Myka's path through the halls. He knew there was only one place she would go.

He wasn't disappointed when he walked into the Room to find her sitting against the wall next to the door.

Her arms were wrapped around her knees, which were against her chest. Her face was hidden by her legs and her hair. Her body was shaking.

"Go away," she said without looking up.

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he told her.

"I'm fine. Go away."

He shook his head and sat down on the other side of the door.

"We both know you're not fine," he said. "You can talk to me."

Her head shot up. Her glare was terrifying, even with the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Talk to you? Why? So you can go joke about me with your friends? _You won't believe what she told me. Listen to what I fucked out of her this time._"

"Do you really think so little of me?"

"What have you done over the years to show me otherwise?" She looked across the room, then lowered her head again.

Pete twisted so he was sitting cross-legged and looking at her.

"I wouldn't hurt you like that," he said. She didn't respond. "I'm serious, Myka. Between kicking each other's asses and going through those ridiculous books Artie makes us study, I've come to at least tolerate you, if not like you just a bit. And I don't like hurting anyone, let alone people I like."

"So what do you call everything you did to me in the past?"

Guilt shot through him. He opened his mouth a few times to reply, but couldn't think of the right words. Finally, he forced some out.

"I was an idiot." He groaned. "I was the new kid, and wanted to fit in, and it was easier to just do what everyone else was doing. I know it won't undo everything, but I'm so sorry."

After a few minutes of silence, she turned her head so it was still rested on her knees, but she could see him.

"You're bleeding."

His eyebrows rose as he looked down at himself. Blood coated the knuckles of the hand he had punched Kurt with. He ran his thumb over the knuckles and grimaced.

"It's not mine. I decked Kurt after you left."

"Why?"

Her voice was laced with confusion, and he could hear the unasked questions. _Why did it matter that he was talking about me? Why would you risk it? Why do you care so much? About me of all people._

"He kept saying stuff about you. I don't like people saying stuff about my friends."

After a moment, she let out a small sigh. "Thanks, I guess."

"Any time, although I am curious about why you didn't just deck him to begin with."

She lifted his head and looked across the room. "I can't," she softly said.

"What do you mean, you can't? You can kick my ass on a good day, and I kicked his, so you could totally cream him."

"That's not the problem."

"Then what is? Don't tell me you're scared of him."

She shook her head. "I can't get into any more trouble. Not after what happened with Mike."

"It's not like a few more detentions will destroy your future. Especially not with this." He nodded towards the Room.

Her face hardened. "You know what, Pete, just drop it."

She pushed herself up, grabbed her book, and left.

Pete sat in confusion once she was gone. He had thought they were making progress; what had made her close up?


	5. Chapter 5

**Warehouse 13  
High School AU  
Eventual Bering and Wells**

**TW: abuse**

**Chapter five**

Things were even tenser between Pete and Myka the next few days.

Pete should have known that Kurt wouldn't keep what had happened to himself, especially not what he thought was going on between them.

The entire school suddenly believed that Pete and Myka were a 'thing.' Well, they all thought he was sleeping with her as payment for tutoring.

He couldn't count how many times he was asked how good she was, or if he would be willing to share. He couldn't even imagine what she was being asked.

Myka tried to act like what the other students were saying didn't hurt, that it all just rolled off of her. Pete, however, saw the pain she tried to hide.

She barely talked when they studied their texts in the Room, but her hits on the sparring mat had more force behind them. She avoided eye contact with everyone. She hunched over, making herself look smaller.

Every time he tried to talk to her about it, though, she just closed up even more and pushed him away.

-oOo-

Pete jumped when something knocked against his window. He glared at his curtain, then turned back to his comic. It was probably just the storm blowing the branch against the glass.

It knocked again. He put the comic down; the sounds were too regular to be the branch and a bad feeling bled through him. He crawled down to the foot of his bed, then slid off of it to stand in front of his window. He peeked around his curtain. His face fell at what he saw.

Myka was sitting in the tree, her back pressed against the trunk and her backpack pressed against her chest. Her legs were bare and the thin sweatshirt she was wearing was soaked. Her hair was plastered down from the rain. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she was visibly shaking.

He threw his window open.

"Myka? What are you…?"

"I'm sorry," she cut him off. Her voice was horse and quiet; he could barely hear it over the storm. "I just didn't know where else to go."

He nodded and gestured for her to come inside. She slowly moved along the branch until she was close enough to swing her legs – bare, bright red, and covered with goose bumps – into his room. He helped her fully into the room, setting her bag on his desk. She slid to the floor under the window. She pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

Pete closed the window, then moved to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He walked back to Myka, crouched in front of her, and handed her the clothes.

"I'm going to get you a towel for that hair and some hot chocolate," he told her.

"Thanks," she murmured.

He left the room, glanced down the hallway to make sure his mom's door was closed, then snuck down the stairs and into the kitchen. He put some water into the kettle and leant against the counter.

His mind wondered to the girl in his room. He had figured there was some major secret she was keeping, but had never thought it would force her to turn to him. Especially not with the rumors about them going around.

The kettle clicked behind him. He poured the water into two mugs, stirred in the mix, and added a splash of milk. He set the mugs onto a tray and made his way back to his room, stopping at the towel closet on his way.

He knocked on the door lightly and cracked it open.

"You decent?"

"Yeah."

He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Myka had moved about a foot to the side, and her wet clothes sat in the wet spot she had made earlier. His clothes made her seem even smaller if it was possible. He handed her the towel and sat down in front of her. He put the tray between them and started to sip from his mug.

They sat in silence as she did her best to dry her hair, then draped the towel over her shoulders to keep the water from dripping down her back.

Pete jumped up when he noticed that she was still shaking. He grabbed the blanket from his bed and sat back down as he handed it to her. She nodded her thanks as she accepted it and wrapped it around herself.

She picked up her mug. She just held it at first, letting the warmth bring feeling back to her fingers. She stared into the liquid for a few minutes, then slowly started to sip. Pete could see tension start to lift from her shoulders.

"Why are you here?" he softly asked.

She just continued to stare into her hot chocolate.

"Myka."

She looked up at him. "Please, Pete," she whispered.

"No. Something made you leave your house, on a school night, in the rain, and come here."

"It wasn't raining when I left."

He stared at her. "It's been raining for three hours."

She looked down again.

"You've been in the rain the entire time?"

She shrugged.

"God, Myka. You should have come here right away."

"I didn't… I wasn't sure you…" she cut off as a shuddering sob forced its way out of her. The one gave way to the next, which paved the way for the rest.

Pete's eyes widened in panic as she was reduced to tears in front of him. He frantically looked around for anything that could help. When he couldn't find anything, he did the only thing he could think of.

He moved the hot chocolate, then pulled Myka into his arms. She let him move her, and pressed her face into his shirt. She cried into his chest, each sob breaking his heart.

-oOo-

Myka sniffled a few times. She had stopped crying a few minutes ago but was still clinging to Pete. He was a solid presence she could ground herself with.

She knew he was itching to ask what had happened and was grateful that he had, so far at least, held back. She wasn't sure what she would tell him even if he did ask.

How could she explain the fear that had forced her from her house? The fear that settled deep in her every time her father pounded on her door. The fear that the door would give. The fear that he would get to her again.

The memories of the last time he had gotten through the door, nearly two years ago, were still vivid in her mind.

She could still feel his fists raining down. She could still smell the stench of alcohol that clung to him. She could still see the blind fury in his face. She still remembered the clothes she had worn (old pajamas that were still stuffed in the back of her closet), how long she had sobbed after (two hours and four minutes), and how many people had questioned the bruise on her neck at school the next day (zero).

The memory that helped her excel in classes betrayed her at home.

Her mom had bought her a doorknob with a lock the next day, but had done nothing else.

Pete shifted slightly then gently pressed her back far enough that he could look at her.

"Are you going to tell me?"

She shook her head.

"Myka," he pressed.

"I can't, Pete," she whispered.

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright." He glanced at his clock. "We should probably get to sleep. You take the bed; I'll sleep on the floor."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

"Nope. You are not getting out of this. I fall asleep down here all the time and you're still freezing so you need the comforter."

She didn't have the strength to argue any further.

-oOo-

When Jane Lattimer went to make sure her son was awake for school she wasn't very surprised to find him passed out on this floor – his arms spread, a foot poking out from beneath a blanket. He often passed out while reading comics on the floor.

Of course, the girl in his bed was a bit of a shock.

"Peter Lattimer!"

Pete jumped up instantly. The sheet fell off of him, revealing his pajamas. He spun around until his eyes locked onto her.

"Mom? Issit time for school?" he slurred.

She just pointed at the bed. He turned around, obviously confused.

"Oh, that's just Myka."

"Myka?"

Clarity hit him. "Shit, Myka." He walked to the bed, and lightly shook her awake. "Hey, Myka, you gotta wake up. It's time for school."

Her eyes cracked open. "A'ready?"

"Yeah, and my mom's kinda here."

That woke her up. She sat up and stared, wide-eyed, at Jane. Jane took in Pete's wresting t-shirt, and raised an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Lattimer," Myka stuttered.

"One of you better start talking," Jane said.

"It was my fault," Myka instantly said. "My family's out of town, and I locked myself out of the house. Pete let me in last night. I'm sorry, I can go now."

Jane stared at the girl. She was obviously lying, but it didn't feel like she was doing it to simply stay out of trouble. There was something more there.

"It's fine, just let me know next time," Jane told her.

Myka nodded quickly. "Umm, where's the restroom?"

"Just down the hall," Jane told her.

"Thanks," Myka said as she grabbed her bag. She slid past Jane, leaving mother and son alone.

Jane turned to Pete. "Why did she just lie to me?"

"She didn't."

"Peter."

Pete groaned. "We didn't do anything, I swear. She just…" He glanced back at his window. Jane followed his gaze, a small pile of still damp clothes sat at the end of the bed.

"Just what?"

"She wouldn't tell me, okay?" he said with a groan. "But I'm pretty sure something's going on with her family."

Jane looked at her soon, really looked. He was growing up. He obviously cared for the girl, but it was more a deep friendship than anything else. Slowly, she nodded.

"As far as I know, she was locked out."

"Thanks, Mom."

"We will be talking about this later, though."

Pete nodded.

"Get ready. I'm going to make breakfast."

"We'll be down soon."

Jane nodded, and headed towards the kitchen. Pete closed his door, and started to get ready.

Myka was leaning on the wall across from his door when he left his room. She had been watching the floor, but looked up when he opened the door.

Her eyes were wide as they just stared at each other.

After a moment, she threw her arms around him. He stumbled back slightly, then returned the hug.

"Thank you, Pete," she said. "Thank you so much."

"Hey, any time." He separated them slightly, and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I mean it. If you need help, you can come to me."

She nodded and, for the first time since she climbed through his window, smiled. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but he would take what he could get.

"Of course," he continued with a lopsided smirk, "this doesn't mean we get to act all lovey-dovey at school."

She laughed, and punched his shoulder.

"Oww," he cried while grabbing is shoulder. "Leave it for the sparring mat, jeeze."

She laughed again and walked to the stairs.

-oOo-

Jane watched as Pete and Myka walked down the path in her front yard. She was proud of what her son had done, but her worry for Myka was overriding the pride.

When they were not in view anymore, she turned around and walked back to the kitchen, which wasn't empty.

Mrs. Fredric was sitting at the table.

"So, that's the girl you partnered my son with," Jane said as she started to clean up.

"Yes," Mrs. Fredric simply said.

"What's wrong with her home life?"

"Nothing we are unaware of."

"Is anything going to be done about it?"

"There is nothing we can do."

Anger flared up in Jane.

"Nothing you can do? There has to be something."

Mrs. Fredric sighed. "What do you think of them as partners?"

Jane glared at her for the topic change, but answered. "He already cares deeply for her, and she obviously trusts him."

Mrs. Fredric nodded, then stood. "If it escalates to a point, we will get her out of there, but we can do nothing until that point," she said before leaving.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warehouse 13  
****High School AU  
****Eventual Bering and Wells**

**Chapter six**

"Do you think we'll ever move away from Egypt?" Pete asked as they walked towards the school.

"If you listened to Artie, you would know that we have two more weeks with Egypt, then we're starting the Sumer civilization," Myka replied. She kicked at a can someone had left on the sidewalk.

"The what?"

Myka smirked and shook her head. "You'll find out in two weeks."

Pete hummed. "Any chance it will be more interesting?"

"For you? None."

"Figured."

He took a few steps before realizing that Myka had stopped. He turned and watched her for a moment.

"I'm sure my mom would understand if you just stay at my place for the day," he told her.

"I'll be fine," she replied in a small voice.

"But?" he pressed.

She grimaced slightly. "Maybe we should get some space between us before we reach school."

Pete grinned and draped his arm over her shoulder. "You know, I really don't care about what anyone at school thinks."

"If my dad even thinks anything is going on…" she faltered off as she stepped away from him.

He frowned. There was no way he was making her go through the entire day alone anymore. "Maybe if we show people that we're friends, the rumors will stop."

She just watched him silently.

"We are friends, right?" he slowly asked.

She waited a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, we are."

He grinned and stepped back to her side to drape his arm around her again. "Good."

She laughed lightly and nudged him slightly. "Let's go, Lattimer."

He laughed and started to step forward. She pulled away again as they walked. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I will not walk into school with you touching me, no matter what," she told him.

He raised his hands in surrender, but smiled.

"So," he drawled, "what was in our reading for today?"

"Do you ever do your homework?" she questioned.

He scoffed. "No."

-oOo-

"He made the mistake, however," Artie rambled, "of killing Berenice, who was very popular, just nineteen days after the marriage. The people of Alexandria responded to her murder by _lynching _Ptolemy the eleventh. Which abruptly ended his short rule."

He turned to face the whiteboard and started to write rapidly.

Myka quickly started to copy it down, but stopped when a folded piece of paper was slid onto her desk. She raised an eyebrow and glanced at Pete. He was leaned back in his chair, dozing off slightly. When he noticed her looking, he winked and grinned slightly.

Myka looked back at Artie, who was still writing on the board, and unfolded the paper. She slipped it under her notebook when he turned around. He spoke for a few more minutes about Ptolemy Auletes before turning around again.

Myka pulled the note out and read it.

_You want to come to my place after school?_

She quickly wrote out her answer and passed it back to Pete.

_Can't, my dad would notice._

Pete nodded after reading it and grimaced slightly at her.

"If you two would kindly pay attention," Artie barked.

They both jumped and turned to face him. He glared at them for a moment, then turned to the board again. Pete and Myka glanced at each other. Pete fought to keep from bursting out in laughing. Myka smiled and shook her head in humor.

-oOo-

Artie smirked as he watched Pete, Myka, and Leena walk out of the room.

Something had shifted in Myka and Pete's friendship, something good. Mrs. Fredric had warned him against prying into their lives. He saw the advice as slightly redundant as he always kept the relationship between himself and his students professional. Still, he couldn't help but feel good knowing that not only were Pete and Myka getting closer, but that Pete was obviously making his way through the walls she had up.

-oOo-

"This is my turn," Myka said as she looked down the street. It was the most direct route from the school to the small downtown of Jefferson where the bookstore and apartment were. Pete's turn into one of the neighborhoods wasn't for another two blocks.

"You gunna be okay?" Pete asked.

She nodded absently and rubbed her neck.

"Myka," he pressed. She turned to him. "I can walk you to your house if you want."

"It will be dark before you get home if you do."

"I'll just cut through the park, shave off half an hour."

"I'll be fine, Pete," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. At least let me put my number into your phone."

"I don't have a phone."

He blankly stared at her for a few moments. "How do you not have a phone?"

Myka shrugged. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the straps of her backpack. She looked at the street light above them. "My parents don't like how much people depend on phones, so they won't get us one."

"Everybody has a phone," Pete insisted. "I've seen your sister with a phone."

"She pays for it herself," Myka explained, looking over at him. "Tracy uses most of her pay from the store for it."

"Why don't you do that?"

She shrugged again, the movement slightly heavier this time, and kicked the ground slightly as she watched her feet. "I put that money into savings instead. It's not like I have anyone to call or text or anything."

He grimaced slightly and made himself focus on the lighter aspect. "Your savings must be huge by now."

She raised her head and smiled, knowing what he was doing. "It's a good amount."

"So you could buy something crazy, like a motorcycle, or a mint condition, life-sized Iron Shadow replica? That's so cool."

She laughed. "Yeah."

He grinned then looked down the way he had to go. "I guess I'll see you around tomorrow."

"I guess," she replied as she stepped towards the cross walk.

He started to walk away. After a few moments, an idea crossed his mind. He turned to tell Myka, but she was already across the street. He shrugged and saved the idea away for later.

-oOo-

Myka slipped into the store as quietly as she could, not even opening the door far enough for the bell to ring. Tracy wasn't at the counter, which meant she was either in the stacks or in the back room. With any luck, it was the former.

Eyes wide, Myka made a beeline for the backroom. She got a glance of Tracy's back in one of the aisles. She moved through the shelves and had a hand on the doorknob when Tracy saw her.

"Where were you this morning?"

Myka took a deep breath and turned. "I left early."

"Why?"

She forced out a sigh. "I had stuff to do, Trace."

"What stuff makes you go to school early?"

Myka's mind raced and she settled on the first lie that made sense. "A project in one of my classes. I had to talk to the teacher."

Tracy shook her head. "You're crazy."

Myka pushed down the twinge of pain and shrugged. "I'll be down in a few minutes to help."

"Yeah, cause there's so much to do down here," Tracy moaned.

"Have you shelved the shipment from last week?"

Tracy shrugged slightly. "Not entirely."

Myka rolled her eyes and pushed through the door to the backroom. Only the bulb that hung from the ceiling was on, throwing most of the room into shadows. A few boxes were stacked on the desk. The tape holding them closed only proved that Tracy hadn't even touched them.

She walked between the rickety shelves and stepped up onto the stairs.

Soft jazz music filled the air of the apartment. She swallowed; her father was in the sitting room. There was no way he wasn't going to see her walk past.

Hoping for the best, she crept forward, clinging to the wall opposite the sitting room door. She stepped past the door as quickly as she could.

"Myka."

Her heart leapt into her throat at her father's voice. Head down, she turned around slowly to face him. He stood in the doorway, watching her. She pulled further into herself as each moment in silence passed.

"Don't forget your fencing gear tomorrow," he told her. "I better not hear from your coach that you slacked off during your time off."

"I won't forget," she said.

"Good. Go put your stuff away then get to work."

He walked away without another word.

Myka let out a small breath and made her way to her room. She tossed her bag onto her desk and slumped onto her bed. She should have seen it coming. He always did something for her the day after.

When she was younger, she had gobbled it all up. She had been so desperate for his attention that the trips to the ice cream shop or toy store would easily draw her in. She would happily forget what he had done because he was giving her the time of day.

She hadn't fallen for it for a few years, however, and now saw it for what it really was. He wasn't really sorry; he was just buying her forgiveness.

She looked over at her fencing gear as it hung in the corner. At least some good came from his manipulations.

-oOo-

Pete was eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV when his mom came home. He grinned and waved at her when she walked through the den and into the kitchen. She walked back out a few minutes later with a sandwich. She sat next to him on the couch.

"You better start talking."

He looked over at her with an eyebrow raised. "Bout what?"

"You know about what."

Pete's shoulders slumped and he stared at his hands for a moment before looking up at her.

"It's her life, Mom. I can't betray her like that."

Jane sighed. "Pete, something forced her out of her house last night. I need to know if she is in danger. I can get her help."

"I'm her help."

"That's great, Pete, but-"

"She told me what she told you," he cut her off. "Really, I don't know anything else."

"At least tell me what happened last night."

He rolled his head slightly. "She knocked on my window, round eleven. I got her some dry clothes, hot chocolate, and we talked for a bit. She fell asleep within thirty minutes of showing up."

She stared at him then nodded. "If she comes over like that again, you tell me, understand?"

"Yeah."

**Finally updated. Finally figured this chapter out.**


End file.
